


Bloody Mary

by Mothervvoid



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Cults, F/M, Homo Demens (Death Stranding), Mild Blood, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Self-Indulgent, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22660582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothervvoid/pseuds/Mothervvoid
Summary: "When Pontius comes to kill the king upon his throneI'm ready for their stones."- Lady Gaga,Bloody Mary
Relationships: Higgs Monaghan/Original Female Character(s), oc x canon - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Prelude.

**Author's Note:**

> Very self-indulgent my friends. This started as a desperate itch in my brain and now we're here, so strap in and try to enjoy the ride! I may come back to this, I'm not sure as my inspiration tends to be finicky. Heed the tags.
> 
> edit: as of 10/27/2020 im discontinuing this fic. soz guys, ran out of steam in the death stranding department

Silver felt different. She’d felt that way for the past hour, but when she talked to other followers about it, it seemed as though it was just her who felt that way. Confused, she retreated to a church. 

Things always made more sense in a church, all dried up fountains and split pews. Monuments, pomp and vigor for false gods. She sang the truth, and here she would ruminate on what she suddenly did not know; the truth. For the first time in a very long time, she felt blind.

She stews in the old temple, coming to a stop before an old basin for Holy Water. The water that was said to heal the sick- another lie. A trick. But it was the _symbolism_ behind what the water represented. 

From behind her she hears the crackle of energy.

“I brought you a metaphor.” 

Something clatters onto the floor before she can spit venom at the familiar voice, whatever object that hit the floor skidding to a stop mere inches from her heels. Silver looks down.

She’s face-to-mask with Higgs’ golden mask. Directing her attention up, the barer of the mask was Fragile.

Silver growled; “How did you get this?”

“He’s damaged goods now.” Was all the other woman said. 

Silver stands there for a moment, gears turning. She’s surprised the porter gives her the chance to put together what that meant in her head, as Silver crouched to pick up the mask, holding it close. The moment was rare, and tender for her, before she allows her rage to take her.

“How could you?” She snarls; “He was God Given Flesh!” She drops the gold mask in her hands, hearing the sharp sound of it bouncing off of the concrete. She swung wildly, not even really aiming for something, but her fists made contact with soft flesh and hard leather, and Silver was content to pound away as long as she could.

The two women struggled, then, Silver not letting up on her angry onslaught for a second, until two quick, well-placed strikes turned her around. Her face slammed into the already cracked porcelain lip of the Holy Water basin. Silver slid to the floor, stunned.

Stumbling away from the madwoman, Fragile fumbled with her equipment, searching for a weapon. She had a handgun on her somewhere, she kept it for emergencies, just like this- and Silver stood back up, using the basin as support. The fractured shards of porcelain cut into her hand, leaving a smeared bloody handprint behind, like the kind BTs left in their wake.

“He was sent to us by God,” It was clear Silver was stunned, if not concussed, as she stalked forward, continuing her macabre sermon as she got closer; “The Particle that permeates all existence. Unless…” She stops for a moment, bloodied hand-to-cheek; “Unless God gave her only begotten son to deliver us from the Death Stranding.”

Fragile found and drew her gun. If all goes well, if the cards were dealt right, Homo Demens would fall like a house of cards. It’s very foundations, ripped from underneath it.

“No weapon forged against me shall prosper.” She remarked, shakily, staring at the gun.

“Tell me, if Higgs was a Particle of God, why did he die?” Asked Fragile, finger poised over the trigger. Silver was so close, the barrel was practically flush with her solar plexus. 

There was no fear in Silver’s face, only resignation. “Even God must die.” Rather than wait for Fragile to pull the trigger, her arms surged forward and made the decision for the other woman, the cultist collapsing to the floor in a pool of rapidly spreading blood.

She didn't stay to contemplate why the other woman would decide to give up; instead, Fragile left the body to go necro. Hopefully Silver would take the entire base with her.


	2. Heaven and Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is going to be weighted against my soul when I try to enter heaven.
> 
> I don't want to hold anyone's hand concerning the pretty heavy-handed faux-symbolism in this fic, but Silver is a little unhinged and was raised by Christian Doomsday preppers, for context on her word-usage.

Silver has repatriated before, she’s seen the bleak solitude that the beach had to offer before being plunged into the cold waters to fight to the seam, to return to her body in a violent rebirth, hopefully before anyone found her. Sometimes she woke up and there had already been a Voidout. She remembered those craters, great holes in the Earth made by God’s Wrath.

But something was different, because she was on the wrong beach. She knew which beach was her’s, and it was not this one. This one was sprawling, with enormous rock formations and beached ocean wildlife. If she looked into the distance, over the water, the Five Figures floated in silent observation of the beach. Silver could only surmise then, that this was the beach where the Last Stranding would begin. 

But then- why was _she_ here? She was a herald, called to the service of God and her son.

As she turns from the Five Figures, she spots something else among the jagged rock of this beach- a smattering of blood. It sprayed from just behind a rock, where a pair of black boots stuck out.

A pair of very familiar black boots.

“No-” Fragile wasn’t a liar.

Silver feels her body move, but she doesn’t remember telling it to, because she doesn’t want to see what was just beyond those rocks. She doesn’t want to see what a bullet does when it passes through the temporal lobe and smears bone and brain matter all over the surrounding sand. She doesn’t want to, but her body was compelled to move, to take the Particle of God’s corpse into her lap, and cradle his broken head as her vision blurs with tears.

It was obvious to her now, why she was here instead of on her own beach- she wouldn’t get to repatriate this time. She had committed the ultimate sin, suicide, through the vehicle of Fragile’s too-slow fingers that she had hastily pressed down. Instead of her beach, she had been sent to Hell.

With a shuddered breath, Silver begins a warbled eulogy, straight out of Ecclesiastes. “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the Heavens…” But she could barely bring herself to say more, her tongue tripping over the carefully practiced phrases, sayings she had known all her life flying right out of her head as she held the head of the man should dared to love in her bloodied hands.

So consumed in her grief, she was barely aware of her surroundings, allowing a hand to be placed on her shoulder before she even realized there was someone else with her in Hell besides a dead body.

“Too soon.” A warm, comforting voice spoke, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Silver turns her head to look upon the face of God, herself. Amelie Strand stares back at her sadly, a fallen daughter holding the body of her only begotten son. 

Amelie gives Silver a pitying smile, rounding the girl to kneel in front of her. “I made you, you know that?” She reaches a hand forward, to wipe a tear off of Silver’s cheek, “Just like I made him.”

“Why did you let this happen again?” Silver sniffled, holding Higgs’ ruined head against her chest; “I thought he was sent to deliver us- just like it was written-”

“Things don’t always go according to plan, Mary.” Amelie soothed, smoothing stray hairs out of Silver’s face, foundly as a mother would.

Wordlessly, Amelie extended a hand to her, and she was once again felt the unconscious compulsion to move against what her mind was telling her. She just wanted to stay like this forever, clutching the fallen body of her Messiah, but she took Amelie’s hand instead, leaving Higgs’ body on the red sand, taking with her the image of what a bullet does to the human head. She shuddered, white-knuckling Amelie’s hand.

God takes her to the shore, the two women walking side-by-side. Amelie says nothing, even as she leads Silver further and further from the shore, further from Hell and her eternal Damnation of the beach with the dead.

They stop, knee-deep in water. Amelie turns to her, and says; “Please don’t break my heart again.” Before she pushes Silver into the oceans.

Whereas the water when she was above it was only knee-deep, Silver now found herself adrift in deep, cold waters. The black bodies and multiple, tangling strands alerted her to the fact that she was not, in fact, entirely dead after all- she was still capable of repatriation… but why?

She began to kick, to push her arms through the water. She didn’t have time for these questions just yet, the seam was closing quickly, but there was just enough time for her to squeeze through-

Into a darkened bunker. The only light in the entire space emanated from an old TV, that played only static, white noise. There was a chair, in it was the figure of a man that was completely still, not even his shoulders rising to give off the impression of breathing.

Silver stands there for a moment, not daring to breathe either as she watches the silent, still figure for several very long moments. With a deep breath, she takes a step forward, but before she can set her foot down, the figure finally speaks. She freezes.

“You’ve been here a while, honey.” The silhouette drawls.

Silver was paralysed, foot still poised in the air to take a step. The voice had a familiar southern drawl, but she couldn’t place it. Before she can respond, the voice continues; “Better wake up before you forget how.”

And she does, with a great gasp. Her whole body jerked up, her head once again striking the porcelain altar that Holy Water once flowed from, sending her right back to the ground. Silver flopped around like a dying fish out of water for a few torturous moments, before she choked, gasped and flipped over, vomiting viscous black tar at the feet of the Virgin’s altar. She looks up, through the blood in her eyes that was slowly being blinked away by the gathering tears, up to the cracked stained-glass face of the first Jesus Christ.

“I see now,” She mumbled, clambering to her knees. She brings her hands up, shaking, and clasped them together as if in prayer; “I will bring you back to me. The Messiah must rise, and I will usher in your coming.” 

But first she would need something. An anchor, to pull her back to God’s Beach. She couldn’t travel with these earthly totems that didn’t represent God’s true form, but there was something else there. Higgs’ corpse would help, in a morbid way. He was still there for her, posthumously waiting to pull her onto the beach so she could bring him back to Earth.

She knew just what she would need. The mask that Fragile had so carelessly brought back.

A cursory glance around would tell her it was no longer here, among the blood splatters and broken stone. Fragile must have taken it with her, a macabre trophy of her perceived victory over them, but that was alright. 

Silver was very adept at finding people.

A metaphor indeed.

Silver didn’t really think she was cut out to be a leader. While it was true she’d never gotten the chance to, she wasn’t the decisive type either. She would give options, but she was never the one who was forced to choose before.

Now she found herself at the helm of Homo Demens, at least the ones she had been capable of bringing to heel under Higgs. Now, thirty of them were currently staring at her as she attempted to convince them that attacking the leader of Fragile Express was a good idea.

Silver must taper her language, not all of them had heard his message, and the ones who had might not all believe. She must be careful. For once in her life, she must strategize, instead of preach.

It was proving… difficult.

“We have been at odds with Fragile Express for years, and you want to stop now? Right after she’s killed our most effective leader?” She asked one of the four men standing before her.

“It’s a good idea-” “Why not stick to picking off settlements and porters? We could take Edge Knot right now without much effort.”

“No- if my assassination attempt proves anything it’s that the leader should always been the first to fall, the rest will be as dominos.” Silver frowns, “Have you no sense of retribution? They have murdered-”

“So we should go to war because your boyfriend is dead.” A woman asked.

“That is not at all what I said.”

“Right- we should attack Fragile Express, because our leader is dead. A leader that you worshipped, if what I heard was correct.” The woman replied. 

Where had their fight gone? Their fanaticism, their tenacity? The frivilocity of this argument stunned her; “Is this all you have to offer me? Spite? Disloyalty? Backtalk?” She threw her gaze across all of those listening, all those who had gathered outside of the old church. “It was Higgs who centralized Homo Demens, and gave it purpose. It was he who attained our every goal before Judas came to stop him. I will not tolerate dissent.” 

She looks across the five people standing before her; “And if you are not with me… you are against me. And those against me shall die.”

There was silence for several moments. People were turning over what she’d just said in their minds, most likely pondering if she had the wear-withall to make good on that threat. 

After the brief silence, the other woman spoke up again; “Then I guess we’ll just take our chances.”

Silver narrowed her eyes as the woman stalked off, turning her back to Silver and the rest of the gathered Demens as if inviting them to attack her as her back was turned. Several people followed her as well. Not everyone was strong enough to stand His Message, Silver should expect some people to break off.

“Hagen.” She speaks, her voice significantly softer now that rebellion was no longer afoot… at least for the moment; “Robert. You two are going to help me get into Fragile Express. And then, we are going to take back what is ours.”


End file.
